


Became His Version of a Kingdom (Day Two- Sharing Clothes)

by swampslip



Series: Flufftober 2020 [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes, i think they could be that's kinda sexc, lets have a Thot please do we think the tassels are mithril, the special blue hood/cloak im still peeved wasn't in the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “What I mean to say,” Thorin interjects with little shame and less remorse, “Is that I would lend you my cloak, as I will fair quite comfortably without it.”
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: Flufftober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950073
Comments: 4
Kudos: 83





	Became His Version of a Kingdom (Day Two- Sharing Clothes)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Glory by Dermot Kennedy](https://open.spotify.com/track/3cuRIW5XcYEcWyWpBjIXHP?si=WqKXnmZYTYGUESxIxBttqQ)
> 
> for context this is a mix of cinematic and novel universe, and this scene in particular is set towards the beginning of Roast Mutton/The earlier part of their journey/pre-goblins/orcs/trolls and all that

“Master Baggins,” Thorin says as he ducks into the overhang Bilbo claimed as his sleeping quarters for the night. 

“Hello,” Bilbo greets quietly and with as much politeness and civility as he can muster while shivering and staring out into the night. 

“Dwalin thinks he will have the cloak of yours dry by morning if he can get a fire going,” Thorin gestures over towards another nook where flickers or sparks can be seen and the soft clash of flint and steel can be heard. 

“He has my thanks,” Bilbo says, just a touch shaky, “Both for this act, and the cloak itself.”

“Of course,” Thorin says mildly then trails off, looking around the area, “Is your Hobbitland always in such a state of kindly weather?” 

“The winters are forgiving in the Shire, if that’s what you are asking. Hobbits don’t take to the damp and frost.”

“No, I suppose you’re very much more used to the sun’s shining.”

“Sorry to be a bother, as such, but I shall survive the night with little lasting hurt, I’m sure.”

“… In the meantime, perhaps,” Thorin starts slowly, “I believe the Dwarven kind may be more suited to this ‘damp and frost’ as you’ve named it.”

“I… Am glad to hear you’ll be unbothered, I-”

“What I mean to say,” Thorin interjects with little shame and less remorse, “Is that I would lend you my cloak, as I will fair quite comfortably without it.”

The crownless King undoes the fasten at his throat and slings his hood off his shoulders, the delicate blue fabric looking cold and not quite inviting in the moonlight even as the silver tassels shine with promise of quality and worth. 

“Oh!” Bilbo exclaims, the sound breathy and laden with surprise, “What kindness.”

It isn’t until he has the cloak in his hands and feels the worn and warm wool that he fully appreciates the act. 

A mere small gift, or perhaps more of a favor, as Thorin will surely demand this special cloth back in the morn and Bilbo will likely be chilled again, as Dwalin seems no closer to sustaining a flame with the damp tinder now as he did when he started hours ago. 

“Thank you,” Bilbo says quickly, remembering himself as he tries to hide his eagerness, primly donning the hood and checking the cleanliness of his hands before crossing his arms over his heart and reverently petting the felt. 

“I hope it serves you, Master Burglar,” Thorin says quietly with a particular soul in his tone that speaks of compassion not common in what tales Bilbo often hears of King’s and their terribleness. 

But Thorin seems not so terrible, in as much as Bilbo has seen of him. 

Thorin watches as Bilbo adjusts the hood to cover most of his curly hair, a few ringlets stubbornly sitting on his forehead, frazzled by the humidity and lack of proper bathing products. 

“It’s a beautiful garment,” Bilbo says as he curls his arms under the wool and looks up at Thorin, “Quite notable amongst the rest.”

“It is,” Thorin says haltingly, “Of a quality.”

“Fit for a king, then.”

“… A king of my fortune,” Thorin says with just a touch of wryness in his voice, the faintest lift to one corner of his mouth as he looks down at Bilbo.

“I will treasure my time in its shelter, then.”

“And I will bid you a good sleep, Master Baggins,” Thorin says and turns away, walking back out in the drizzle.

“To you as well!” Bilbo says hurriedly, sitting up a bit straighter, “And to Dwalin, and the others!”

He watches the silhouette of the older fade into the night before settling back against the stone, nesting down into the wool, warmed through, body and soul. 


End file.
